


A Stakeout With the Penalty

by WattStalf



Series: it's just piss [21]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Desperation, Gen, Omorashi, Wetting, female omorashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4776467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WattStalf/pseuds/WattStalf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, why equally stubborn vigilantes also need to plan their bathroom breaks better. And should also watch mocking their friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Stakeout With the Penalty

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to the story with Cutlass. As with that one, he and the Penalty are the only characters from my story that you need to be familiar with (bios on my tumblr, mrs-comedian, /tagged/the_cavalry), but you don't have to have read the last story to read this one. All you need to know is Cutlass wet himself, the Penalty laughed, and he threatened her, demanding she not mention it again. In this story, the tables will turn.

“Heh, somethin' about this sure feels familiar,” Francesca said, smirking at the man beside her. “Almost like this jus' happened last week.” She burst into laughter before taking a long drag on her cigarette.

“Shut up,” was all Cutlass said, not wanting to be reminded of the previous week's events.

“So, lemme guess. Yet again, ya think my lead is the golden one,” she said. When he nodded, she chuckled. “Well, you was wrong last week. Hope yer not this time...or that ya at least got some better luck, ya know?”

He gave her a sharp glare, putting a hand on the hilt of one of his swords. “Do you not remember our little agreement?”

“Why, Cutlass, I got no idea what yer referrin' to. I was just sayin' that I hope we actually get to beat tha shit out of some bad guys this week.”

He nodded, but he could tell that the Penalty knew damn well exactly what he was talking about. Making fun of people seemed to be her specialty, after all, and even if she never directly mentioned it again, he was sure he would never live that particular humiliation down.

They parked themselves in a different alley that looked entirely the same as the one they had been in before, and Cutlass could hear her snickering quietly every few minutes as she struggled to hold back her laughter. He briefly contemplated counting that as mentioning it and making good on his promise of decapitating her, just to get it over with.

Meanwhile, the Penalty had already felt the first twinge of karma, in the form of the slightest urge to pee. She shrugged it off, cocky as ever, because she was the Penalty and she was tougher than that. And she didn't believe in karma, besides.

She certainly wasn't going to end up like Cutlass just because she had made fun of him; of that, she was absolutely certain.

~X~

Tonight was starting to look like another bust. Cutlass and the Penalty had made light conversation- or, rather, she had rattled on about nonsense and guns and he had nodded and made some noises of acknowledgment- but both were growing very restless as they waited for something to happen. Any action would be welcome at this point, even an unrelated crime to stop.

More than that, the Penalty wanted something to take her mind off of the fact that her “slightest urge” was growing, and she didn't have any desire to admit such a thing to her companion. Already, her gloating and snide remarks were seeming like less of a good idea, and karma was seeming more like a real force.

It was not a force that she wanted to reckon with, strong as she may be. Her bladder was never something she had had to really fight before, as modesty was something she was all but unfamiliar with. She'd long since learned how to aim and piss standing, and had no qualms about doing so whenever she deemed it necessary, and normally, Cutlass' presence would not deter her. But she just knew he would have something to say about it and that was not something her pride wanted to hear.

Her tight leather pants were not helping matters, adding a lot of unneeded pressure to her bladder. She tapped her foot, but stopped abruptly; her boot was quite heavy and made a very audible sound. Cutlass was already looking at her.

“What are you getting so impatient about?” he asked. “You should be used to this by now. Like you said before, Myrmidon always sends you on the shitty leads, right? Bet you rarely get a real fight.”

She sneered at him and said, “Bet yer used to it too, considerin' ya always follow me around, sayin' Myrmidon was wrong an' all. Come on, you can admit it. Ya jus' wanted to spend time with me, right?” She gave a short laugh at the end of her question to disguise an involuntary cringe after a sharp pain struck her lower abdomen.

“I know you're just being snarky to try and hide the fact that you were careless in planning and have to piss, but you're not doing a very good job of it,” he deadpanned, though the corners of his mouth twitched, giving away the fact that he was fighting a smile.

“Shut the fuck up!” she snapped. When she did not attempt to deny it, the smile he had been fighting came out. “Stop smirkin', ya useless motherfucker! S'not fuckin' funny, alright?”

“Actually, I think it's incredibly funny,” replied Cutlass. “Poetic justice, right? Well, what are you waiting for? I know already, so you can go on.” It took all she had to not attempt to punch the smile off his face.

“Fuck no,” she said, looking away as she squirmed. The idea was tempting, but she was in this for the long haul, right? She was not giving up; she was going to win this, no matter how much she felt like she was not. “I'm gonna be jus' fine, got it? I'm not like you, see?”

Cutlass chuckled and she glared at him. Her bladder was throbbing, the waist band of her pants cutting deep into her. She clenched her gloved fists, biting down on the inside of her mouth. God, she needed a cigarette. She had been so distracted by trying to hide her desperation that she had not lit up again after finishing her last one.

She fumbled in her pocket, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “Shit, shit, shit,” she hissed as she felt a small spurt of piss leak out of her. She jiggled her knees, pulling out her lighter and the nearly-empty box of cigarettes. Removing one from its package, she felt another leak before she could get the box back in her pocket.

She crossed, uncrossed, and recrossed her legs while she put the cigarette in her mouth, hand shaking as she reached up to light it. This was getting a lot worse, and she knew she would have to do something soon, or there was no way she would make it. When at last her cigarette was lit, she took a drag from it and dropped one hand to her crotch, shamelessly grabbing herself as she squirmed.

Cutlass was laughing harder than she had ever heard from him before, but no snark came to her. She was fighting a losing battle, with her only options being two different types of defeat. The first was the lesser one, with her dropping her pants and going right there; the second was the same humiliation she had witnessed from her friend, which would put her right there on his level and make her question her belief in karma. The choice was obvious.

“Fuck it,” she mumbled, trying to figure out how she was going to get her zipper down, and then her very-hard-to-get-in-and-out-of pants, without letting go of herself, because she knew if her hand left its current place, she would not be able to avoid several leaks in her already-damp red panties.

But, of course, there was no way to pull off such a stunt, and she was already leaking again, but this time it wasn't stopping, and- _son of a bitch!_ was her last thought before her leather pants began to be flooded by her own piss.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” she shouted, which would have thoroughly blown their cover if there had actually been anyone there to hide from. The leather kept most of the piss from escaping her pants, except for what made it through the zipper area. The rest ran down her legs, puddling in her boots. She groaned, and the feeling of emptying was nearly orgasmic, but she was much too enraged to really notice that.

“Fuck,” she mumbled again, sighing a bit this time. Cutlass could easily tell what was happening, evening without much physical evidence, and she did not dare look at him and see what she was sure was an incredibly smug expression.

She slammed a fist against the wall of the building they stood behind, not minding the sting as her knuckles hit brick. She had to take out her frustrations on something, and she didn't know how well she would fare in a fight against the swordsmen. She swore a few more times, punching the wall to punctuate each exclamation. Finally, when her bladder was empty and she had punched the wall around seven times, she calmed down a bit, catching her breath.

“So,” said Cutlass. She did not give him a chance to finish, mimicking what he did the previous week and slamming him against a wall. She put one of her guns to his head, giving him her trademark wicked grin.

“So, what?” she asked. “We're even, huh? You did it, I did it, now we both got the same thing on each other so neither of us can tell, right?”

He paused as he thought about it, knowing that she was right. If he told anyone, she could easily get back at him; both incidents would have to remain a secret. Still, he had the private satisfaction of knowing that the almighty Francesca Pierce had been taken down in the same manner, and that was all he really cared about.

**Author's Note:**

> Humiliating Francesca is a lot of fun. I'd like to write about the others, but I really don't think I could do it without repeating the same plot I used for both of these, and that would certainly get tired. Either way, I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
